


Will the Real Culprit Please Stand Up

by GlutenFreeWaffles



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Diners, Bucky's a punk, In the middle nowhere..., Sam likes pie, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 08:09:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1462054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlutenFreeWaffles/pseuds/GlutenFreeWaffles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The people who came to the diner were typically as dry and dusty as the area surrounding it. However, the a new face that mysteriously arrives due to car troubles may just find a loose thread ready to unravel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will the Real Culprit Please Stand Up

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a work in progress and unfinished. Appropriate tags will be added if necessary with upcoming chapters.
> 
> Based on this post by Tumblr user bubblon: 
> 
> http://babbleon.tumblr.com/post/81905121270/someone-should-write-a-story-based-on-these

Sam pushed the fork away with a squint of his eyes. The sun was bright, streaming through the window and settling as a gleaming glare against the silverware. Small dust particles floated in between the bars of light that peeked through the blinds. It was generally quiet, not many customers in the diner today.

Typically, the sideroad restaurant surrounded by dessert didn’t maintain a huge clientele; if anyone came they were familiar locals. As of now, the diner was practically empty. An older couple, the Browns, sat near the door; Jim Fortas, a local store-owner who sold antiques, ate a cheese sandwich quietly on a stool at the counter; and Mr. Wilson, who shared his surname but shared no relation to Sam, managed the restaurant, and was cleaning the stove in the kitchen. And, of course, there was Sam, always stable, sitting alone in his usual booth with his usual lunch order of scrambled eggs, an open-faced pastrami, a side of greens, and a glass of cola.

The bell above the door dings as it opens, and the familiar sight of Bucky Barnes strode into the establishment. He was thin, but tall; always sporting combed back hair, soft stubble, and worn jeans. He takes a seat at the counter, a few stools down from Fortas, and makes himself comfortable.  


“Hey! Wilson!” He calls out, spoiling the dusty silence Sam had been admiring.  
  


Mr. Wilson came forward, chuckling as he grabbed his pad of paper. “Hey Buck. I thought you’d be in town today for the dance. If I’d known you weren’t busy I would’ve scheduled you,” he teases.  
 

Bucky leans on the countertop. “Nah, dances aren’t really my thing. I can pick up a shift tonight if you need.”  
 

Mr. Wilson ponders this. “Well… Come to think of it, we may be busy with all those couples coming home from the dance. I’ll call you if I need you.”  
  


Bucky shrugs. “No need. I’ll just hang around here.”  
  


“Uh oh,” Wilson raises an eyebrow. “Trouble at home?”  
  


Bucky can’t help but chuckle, shaking his head with a sigh. “When one alcoholic drinks another alcoholic’s last bottle of beer, who gets hit first?”

  
Sam returns to his eggs, not caring to hear how that debate ended.


End file.
